


Dudley's Little Witch

by Eiiri



Series: Harry Potter and the Family Circus [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Buying Wands, Dudley Has a Witch Daughter, Dudley isn't a bad guy, Dudley's Family, Extended Families, First Years, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hufflepuff, Platform 9 3/4, School Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lazy summer afternoon, Harry gets a panicked phone call from his cousin--a Hogwarts letter came for Dudley's daughter Daisy and he doesn't know what to do.  Harry and the rest of the extensive Potter-Weasley clan help introduce the Dursleys to the wizarding world and prepare to send their little girl to Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Letter, An Unexpected Call

Summer, 2020

 

Harry Potter was sitting on the family room floor, making notes on a petition for Hermione while his teenaged sons played speedchess, when the telephone rang. All three of them jumped.

“Christ,” James breathed, setting right the rather disgruntled Rook he'd knocked over. “I always forget we have a phone.”

Harry set the petition aside, got up, and went to answer the phone in his office. He hadn't even gotten out a greeting before the person on the other end snapped, “Potter!”

“Hello, Dudley.” Harry closed his eyes and resisted the urge to sigh. He and his cousin were on better terms than they had been in their youth, but they still generally didn't get on particularly well. “What are you calling for?”

“It's Daisy—She—” Dudley sounded anxious, frightened even.

Harry frowned, concerned what about Dudley's daughter would prompt her father to call Harry. “What's the matter? Did something happen? Is she alright?”

“She's got one of those blasted letters.”

“Oh.” Harry paused. His sons appeared in the doorway to listen. “ _Oh._ ”

“I—Harry, I don't know what to do.” Dudley sounded genuinely lost. “I just know I'm going to screw her up somehow. I'm horrid with all that magic nonsense. I'd just hide the ruddy thing and pretend it never got here but I remember how well that works.”

“No, that really won't work. Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” Dudley said too quickly to be inoffensive.

Harry rolled his eyes, pondered, then asked, “Do you want to come here, then?”

“If—” Dudley faltered. “Won't your family mind?”

“Not at all. I'm the only one home, actually,” Harry said with a meaningful look at James and Albus. “The ladies of the house have gone out and the boys are at a friend's house.”

Taking the hint, Albus took his older brother by the arm and dragged him out of the house, saying, “Let's see if the Finnigan's cat's had her kittens yet.”

“Uh, in that case, I'll be around then.” Dudley hesitated before adding, “Thank you,” and hanging up.

Harry sighed, put the phone on its hook, and went to make a pot of tea.

 

* * *

 

Harry was standing on the broad front porch, absently petting his melanistic barn owl, Othello, when Dudley's big, shiny BMW came up the street and pulled into the drive. Dudley got out of the car. “Your neighbourhood is mad, do you know that? Nightmare to drive through. And what the hell have number seven got tied in their front garden?”

“A sigbin, I think.” Harry shoved off from the porch railing and held open the front door. “Would you like some tea?”

“No. No, thank you.” Dudley cautiously mounted the porch steps and went into the house.

“So, Daisy got a Hogwarts letter?” Harry asked gently once they were inside. He poured two cups of tea anyway.

“Yes, she did.” Dudley pulled the rather crumpled envelope out of his trouser pocket and threw it on the kitchen table. “Came in the post this morning, ruddy thing. And why is it written in green? Why not a normal ink color like blue or black?”

“I don't know. Tradition, I figure.”

“It's stupid,” Dudley spat and began pacing. He didn't seem to have noticed the tea at all. “I don't want my little girl going to school and turning people into animals and blowing things up and talking to snakes and all sorts of sordid things like that. She ought to be learning English, and maths, and history—useful things that aren't liable to get her killed! Even your lot's candies are dangerous, it's patently insane.”

“Dudley—” Harry began, but his cousin continued pacing and ranting. “Dudley. Dudley, can you please settle down? This isn't the end of the world.”

Dudley halted but didn't seem any calmer. Harry sighed. “You've been unfortunate enough to for the most part only have been exposed to, how to call it, the less well tamed side of magic, but that's not how things are most of the time. It is possible to turn people into animals, but it's extremely rude and generally doesn't happen. It's also not something children are taught until they're much older. Even my eldest isn't to that level yet. Yes, things do explode from time to time, but magic also makes putting things right a lot easier. As for talking to snakes, most people can't do that and I highly doubt Daisy can, don't worry. There are extracurricular classes in English and maths at Hogwarts if Daisy wants or needs to take them, and history is required all seven years. As long as she keeps away from George's shop, the sweets won't hurt her either. As for usefulness….”

Harry took off his glasses, held them up so Dudley could see, then threw them down against the tile floor where they shattered, the frames skittering under the nearest chair.

“What are you doing?!” Dudley shouted, alarmed.

“Watch.” Harry slowly and deliberately pulled out his wand and pointed it at the remains of his glasses. “Repairo.” The shards of glass flew together and fused into undamaged lenses then popped themselves back into the frames. Harry picked his glasses up and put them back on. “Good as new. Very useful.”

“Alright, fine, it's useful. Probably more useful than trigonometry, but,” Dudley sat heavily in the chair on his side of the table, “how could I not have noticed? You'd think I'd have noticed that sort of flashy mayhem at some point over the past decade, if she's a—if she's a, a witch….”

“Not necessarily.” Harry sat as well. “Most noticeable things Albus did before he started school were make teacups float about a centimeter off the table and every once in a while his trainers would change color. Friend of mine showed so little magic as a kid his uncle hung him out of a window just to try to make sure he was a wizard at all. All children are different. Not everyone makes plate glass windows vanish.”

Dudley let out a long breath and dropped his face into his hands. “This is a nightmare.” He lifted his head. “Why must all this codswollup always just _pop up_?”

“Well,” Harry began, “sometimes magic does show up in a family out of nowhere, like my friend Hermione. But Daisy comes by it naturally, from you. Your mother's sister, now your daughter—looks like it runs in the family.”

Dudley stared at him with a look of vacant terror. “She got it from me?”

“Unless there's something Carol's been neglecting to mention, yes.”

“Oh, God.” Dudley deflated and lay his face on the table.

“At least you have family that knows what's going on.”

Dudley lifted his head just enough to glare at him. Harry shrugged. Dudley replaced his forehead on the tabletop. A moment passed, then he sat bolt upright. “How am I supposed to tell Carol?!”

“Uh,” Harry hesitated. “Do you want me to help with that?”

“Yes,” Dudley squeaked.

 

* * *

 

Dudley's suburban house looked almost as much like a well-dressed movie set as the home he'd grown up in. Dudley let himself and Harry in, then called to his wife who appeared around the corner of the hallway from her office, still mostly dressed in her pantsuit.

“Oh! Hello, Harry,” Carol said cheerfully. “It's been quite a while, hasn't it. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I'm just here for moral support mostly.” Harry gave Dudley a pointed look that Carol definitely noticed.

Her face fell. “Dudley, what is it?”

“Uh, why don't we sit?” He steered his wife to the sofa and Harry followed. Once they were all settled, he floundered momentarily then blurted, “Harry's a wizard.”

Carol blinked at him, startled, then laughed. “What? You mean like that ridiculous debate that keeps coming up on the news? The one you always say is stupid then change the channel?”

“Yeah, that one. Uh.” He looked to Harry.

“They're debating on your news whether magic exists because they're debating on our news whether to repeal the International Statute of Magical Secrecy, so some of the enforcement of centuries old laws that maintain separation between the wizarding and muggle—or non-wizarding—worlds has gotten a little lax.”

“I see,” Carol said slowly. She looked back and forth between her husband and his cousin. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Yes,” both men said.

She leaned back against the couch cushions, crossing her arms. “Did something knock you both in the head or are you confused about the fact that April Fool's Day is in April, not July?”

“No, dear—” Dudley began, but a quirk of Carol's eyebrow shut him up.

Harry waited a moment before asking, “Should I do something?”

“God, I really don't want to say yes, but yes.”

“Right then.” Harry slowly and deliberately drew his wand, pointed it at a small vase on the coffee table, and clearly enunciated, “Avifors.”

The vase rippled and turned into a songbird, which ruffled its wings, took a couple hops across the tabletop, then flitted over to perch on the edge of a lampshade, where it whistled contentedly.

Carol stared at the bird. “Holy shit.”

“Magic,” Harry said.

“Apparently.” Carol was still watching the bird. “Can you turn it back?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Please do, I'm rather fond of that vase.”

Harry held out his hand for the bird, it landed on his hand, he transfigured it back, and set it on the table.

“You are a wizard.” She shook her head. “Alright. Was not expecting that one, but alright.” She paused then frowned. “So why are you telling me all of a sudden? Has something happened?”

Dudley struggled to start a sentence. Harry intervened. “There's a magic school called Hogwarts. That's where I went. They send out letters to wizarding children when they're old enough to start as first years at age eleven.”

Dudley took out the maltreated parchment envelope. “This was in this morning's post.”

Carol took the letter, read the back, opened it, and read the first paragraph, frown deepening all the while. She set the letter in her lap. “So, Daisy is a…?”

“Witch. Yes,” Harry confirmed.

“So she has to go to this school?”

“It's not mandatory. It is the only wizarding school in the UK but there are other magic schools in other countries where you could send her if you really wanted to. And you _could_ keep her in muggle schools, not send her at all, but I'd advise against it. Magical ability is a powerful thing that only tends to get stronger with age. Uncontrolled, it can be dangerous—as Dudley has unfortunately experienced first hand.”

“Aunt Marge was never quite right again, you know.” Dudley said rather coldly.

Harry cringed. “Yeah, that was bad. To be fair though, was she ever quite right to begin with?”

Dudley mused. “Not really, no.”

Carol arched an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“I was thirteen, I got mad—I had a bit of an anger management issue in my youth—and unintentionally inflated my aunt.”

“Like a balloon,” Dudley added.

“Oh, my.”

“And there was the thing with the snake enclosure.”

“Dudley, that was before I knew I was wizard.”

“And the tail.”

“I didn't do that one.”

“And there was that godforsaken toffee _after_ our fireplace blew up.”

“That wasn't me either.”

“And that horrible dark whatever it was when we were fifteen.”

“I _saved_ your fat arse from that, Dudley.”

“It was only there because of you in the first place.” He glared at Harry.

He sighed, pushed his glasses up his nose, and turned his attention to Carol who was beginning to look rather alarmed. “I was literally cursed growing up. I had an unreasonable knack for attracting trouble. My experience was not typical. Hogwarts is a very good school. Many of the teachers there are my personal friends. My kids and all my nieces and nephews go. My daughter, Lily is Daisy's age; it's been a few years since they've seen each other but the girls got on plenty well as toddlers. They'd have classes together, might even be roommates. It isn't as though Daisy would be thrown into a whole new world with no one on her side.”

Carol studied Harry, expression calculating. “Tell me more about this school.”

Harry paused. He'd never had to explain Hogwarts before. Everyone he knew had either been there, or didn't want to know. “Well, it's a seven year boarding school. It's in Scotland. Can't tell you exactly where in Scotland because it's bespelled such that it's impossible to put on a map. It's in this incredible old castle. Are you familiar with the house system some schools have?”

She nodded. “Mhm. The secondary school I went to had two of them.”

“Great. Well, Hogwarts has four, one for each of the four founders. New students—first years and the rare transfer student—are sorted into the houses based on certain personality traits by a magic talking hat the evening they arrive for the start of term. Almost all students get to school via train. The school has its own train, the Hogwarts express. The ride is a very good opportunity to acclimate and make friends. I met my two best friends in the world on the train ride my first year.”

“Where does the train leave from?” Carol asked. Dudley seemed relieved to let her take over the conversation.

“Nearest stop to here is King's Cross in London.”

She made a sound of surprise. “You haven't got your own magic train station?”

“Not our own station, no.” Harry chuckled. “But we have got our own platforms.”

“Hm. How big is the school, population wise?”

“Student body is generally right around a thousand. It was a bit lower when I was attending Hogwarts but my generation all seems to have grown up and decided they want lots of kids. I don't think I know anyone who has fewer than two if they have any at all.”

Carol laughed softly. “More power to those witches, I guess.” She picked the letter back up and looked it over. Harry could see when she got to the supply list. She looked at him dubiously. “Where the hell does one buy this stuff?”

“London.” Harry shrugged. “There's a wizarding merchant district in London. It's a little like Camden Town but with more owls and less Indian food.”

“Huh.” Carol skimmed the letter again. “I suppose we'll tell her when she gets back from the zoo with Hayley.”

“We're sending her then?” Dudley sounded like he was trying very hard to sound calm.

“I'd rather send her to boarding school than have my sister inflated,” Carol said pointedly.

“Right.” Dudley went rather pink. “Of course, dear.”

“My wife and I, and likely some of my in-laws, are planning on taking our kids school shopping the second weekend in August, if you'd like to come along,” Harry offered.

“I think that would be very helpful,” Carol said pleasantly. “We'd probably make quite the mess of things on our own.”

Dudley nodded.

Harry smiled. “I'll let everyone know you'll be coming with us.”

When he left a while later, Harry took a moment for himself to shake is head at how unfathomable the day's events would once have been.

 

 


	2. School Shopping

The Potters and a total of seven Weasleys milled about the street corner in front of the grocer's across from the Leaky Cauldron. In part to avoid seeming too conspicuous, in part because it was hot, they had bought fresh made lemonade from the grocer. Harry had just finished his when he spotted the Dursleys coming up the street, Dudley and Carol hand in hand, Daisy on her father's hip, looking smaller than she was next to his girth.Carol waved as they drew nearer. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Harry returned.

Carol subtly elbowed her husband. Dudley muttered a “Morning,” as he sat Daisy down.

While the adults started introductions, Lily gave Daisy a friendly smile. The already overwhelmed looking brunette girl gave her redheaded cousin a tentative smile.

“I know Lily is starting school this year,” Carol said with a bright grin, “just like Daisy.” She gave her daughter an encouraging pat on the shoulder then looked at the other kids. “Are the rest of you all in school?”

“I'm just a year ahead of them,” Hugo said, nodding to his florally-named cousins. “Started last fall.”

“But you're an old pro now, right?” Carol asked him as Hermione started ushering the group across the street to the pub which, once it was pointed out, Carol suddenly noticed was there. She chalked it up to magic.

Hugo chuckled. “I hope so.”

“Maybe between the both of us we know all the ropes,” Louis said with a shrug. “We're the same year. Albus is a year ahead of us then Hugo's sister Rose is a year ahead of Albus.”

“And I'm a year ahead of Rose,” James chimed in.

“I have one year left,” Dominique declared with a dramatic flick of her platinum ponytail.

“I already graduated.” Victoire mocked her sister's hair flick with her own strawberry blond braid. “Hence, I get to do the honors of herding you around.”

As they all crammed into the small courtyard behind the pub, Daisy said to her father, “I didn't know I had so many cousins.”

Albus overheard her and grinned. “This isn't even all of them.”

She gaped. “There's more of you?”

“Just two,” Lily said. “The twins are younger than us.”

“It'll be three soon though,” Dominique pointed out just as the archway into Diagon Alley opened.

“First stop Gringott's,” Hermione said, still playing sheepdog. She gave the Dursleys a moment to gape at their surroundings before explaining, “We're all going to stop by the bank so you can change pounds to wizard coinage. I can help with that, I used to do it regularly.”

“No need to take up your time with that,” Dudley said, clearly loath to accept help. “It's just a bank.”

“Oh, Ron has to make a withdrawal.” Hermione waved a hand dismissively. “And Victoire?”

The tall girl looked around at her aunt. “Hm?”

“Don't you have to check that the money your grandmother sent you from France went through?”

“Yup.”

“See,” Hermione flashed Dudley a smile that might have been a smidge too sweet to be entirely innocent, “it's no extra trouble.”

When they were through at the bank, the two rising first years—accompanied by just one parent each due to the crampt nature of the shop—went to get their wands while the rest of the group went to drool over new racing brooms at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The bell above the door jingled gently as Ginny, Dudley, and their respective daughters entered the wandshop. Mr. Ollivander—slightly less owlish and much less grey than his his father had been back in the nineties—peered around a shelf at them. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Potter, Miss Potter. And who have we here?”

“This is Harry's cousin Dudley and his daughter, Daisy,” Ginny provided.

Mr. Ollivander blinked slowly. “Mr. Potter's muggle cousin, are we?” he asked with genuine curiosity. He smiled at Daisy. “Just got your letter, then? First time in Diagon Alley?”

Daisy shrunk back against her father and nodded.

“Let's let Miss Potter go first then.” Mr. Ollivander turned his smile on Lily. She's seen both her brothers get their wands, knows just what to expect.” He flicked his own wand at the measuring tape on the counter and it sprung to life, measuring every inch of Lily, who giggled. “Been waiting _ever so_ patiently for four years now.” His eyes glinted teasingly.

Lily tried out wand after wand, many of them doing nothing at all, a few of them caused small bouts of mayhem that made Dudley flinch, before—a dozen wands in—she landed on a twelve and a quarter inch, dragon heartstring aspen with a spiraled handle similar to her mother's. Mr. Ollivander neatly boxed up the wand, slid it into one of the shop's instantly recognizable long, narrow dark blue bags, and gave it to its new owner to hold while Ginny paid. Lily clutched the bag excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Mr. Ollivander turned to Daisy. “Your turn, love.”

It took nearly three dozen tries and a small fire for Daisy to find a wand that agreed with her: ten and a half inches of ebony, intricately carved with filigree filled in silver, with a thestral tail hair core.

Dudley paid and they rejoined the rest of group outside. While the girls were proudly showing off their brand new wands, Daisy telling Carol excitedly about having started a fire, he leaned toward Ginny. “I know what a dragon is, but what's a thestral?”

“Um.” Ginny took a moment to choose her words. “Sort of like a horse, with bat wings.”

He made a face. “Like a Pegasus?”

“A little. But more skeletal.” She shrugged. “The most powerful wand ever made had a thestral hair core. It's not a common material.”

“Oh.” Dudley turned slightly green. Ginny pretended not to notice.

“Books next?” Victoire asked.

“Sounds good,” Harry agreed. “Then we can go to Madam Malkin's.”

In the bookshop, Victoire waved down one of the clerks, a boy who'd been in her year, and rattled off to him, “We need two full sets of first year Hogwarts required reading—”

Lily muttered to Daisy, “I wouldn't need a set but my brothers' books didn't survive the both of them. Hugo never needs new books 'cause Rose babies hers.”

“—one copy of _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky—”

James gave his brother a look. “You're actually taking Divination?”

Albus shrugged. “Cirio talked me into it.”

“—one copy of _Arcane_ _Zoology_ by Luna Lovegood-Scamander, everything on the fourth year list except for _Subverting the Dark Arts_ by H.Granger,” she glanced at her aunt, “everything on the fifth year list except for _Planting for Potionmaking_ by Neville Longbottom and H.Granger, and one copy of _Brewing Smarter: Advanced Techniques in Potionmaking_ by Snape, Granger, and Potter because my little sister managed to destroy hers.”

While the clerk pulled together the stack of thirty or so books, Carol looked to Ginny and Harry. “One of you wrote a book?”

“I helped _her_ write a book.” Harry nodded toward Hermione.

“My maiden name is Granger.” Hermione proudly tapped her finger on the cover of a copy of _Subverting the Dark Arts_ that was among a display of her other books.

“Oh! You're a writer?” Carol asked, impressed.

“Only in my spare time.” Hermione shrugged. “By day I'm the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Carol's eyes lit up excitedly. “Are you? I'm a lawyer, I'd love if you could tell me about wizarding law.”

Hermione grinned broadly. “Oh, of course I can do that. We're in the middle of a pretty major legal overhaul though, so things are in flux.”

“I understand.” Carol waved a hand. “Laws change as the times change. Harry mentioned something back in July about a movement to repeal an international statute?”

Hermione groaned. “It's a political nightmare that's piling my desk with paperwork.”

Ron and Dudley found themselves unexpectedly sharing a look of commiseration.

The clerk—who had, with Victoire's help, separated the one book pile into four by family—popped up over the shortest of the stacks. “Um, hate to interrupt, but you can pay now.”

 

* * *

 

As the extended family filed into Madam Malkin's, Ginny waved her daughter, Carol, and Daisy over to a clerk to get the girls measured for their new robes. The clerk—not Madam Malkin herself, but a younger witch with a pronounced Yorkshire accent—smiled at the two young cousins. “Startin' at Hogwarts, are we? How exciting. Can ye step up on these stools here for me. Thankye ladies.” She glanced at Ginny and Carol. “Mums, you can look around if ye like. This'll take a good bit an' there's not much to be watchin'.” She magicked two sets of robes over and held them up. “These look about right. If ye could go just behind there—” she pointed a row of screens out to Daisy and Lily “—and try these on we'll get 'em hemmed up and taken in or let out as ye need so they fit ye just perfect. How's that sound?”

The girls both took the robes and grinned. “Sounds good to me,” Lily said while Daisy nodded her agreement.

Carol had resumed her legal banter with Hermione so Ginny went to have a look around. Her sons were debating the merits of pullovers versus cardigans, Harry was explaining self repairing socks to Dudley who looked wary but intrigued, Ron was trying valiantly to convince Hugo that the boy's robes—which barely reached his ankles—were too short and needed to be re-hemmed at the very least, and the rest of the kids were perusing spirit wear in their house colors.

“Aunt Ginny!” two young voices called from the corner of the dress robes section, getting her attention and making her look around. It was her nephews, George's sons Alex and Freddie, standing next to their mother where she sat in an armchair, clearly waiting for some tailoring to be done.

The twin's shoes had apparently been magically stuck to the floor; they were pulling on each other's legs trying to break free. Angelina, hand laying on the curve of her heavily pregnant belly, looked up at Ginny. “Why did I decide to reproduce with your brother?”

Ginny shook her head. “No clue.” She gave her nephews a knowing look. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” they said, far too sweetly.

“They were climbing the racks while I was being measured.” Angelina shot them a patented mum-glare that had them cowering sheepishly.

Ginny and Angelina had been chatting for a while—about their kids, about Angelina's pregnancy, about the Wizarding Business Expo she and George were going to for which she needed new dress robes that were large enough to contain her belly—when Lily ran up in her freshly hemmed black robes, Daisy in tow. “Mum!” Lily said, holding out her arms. “Look!”

“Very nice, Lily.” Ginny smiled. “You, too, Daisy. Oh, Angelina, Alex, Freddie, this is Daisy. Harry's cousin Dudley is her father. Daisy, this is Alex and Freddie and their mum, Angelina.”

Daisy curtsied in her robes. “Nice to meet you.”

She contemplated the twins a long moment, taking in the adherence of their shoes to the floor. “Why don't you just take your shoes off?”

Angelina groaned. The twins looked at Daisy in wonder, quickly undid the laces of their trainers, and escaped. They had almost made it to the door when their mother cast a jelly legs jinx on them. The two boys collapsed in a heap right next to Dudley, who stared at them, then at Angelina, horrified. She shrugged. “When I'm not so pregnant, I catch them myself.”

They left the shop laden with shopping bags. Angelina—her thoroughly chastised sons carrying her purchases—waved farewell to the others at the corner of the street and she and her two mocha-skinned, redheaded little devils headed for their flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The rest of school shopping passed uneventfully until, outside of Eeylops, Daisy declared, “Daddy, I want an owl.”

“Uh.” Dudley looked to his wife.

“Absolutely not.”

Daisy pouted. “But Mummy, look at them, they're so beautiful. And how else am I going to write home to you?”

Dudley looked back and forth between his wife and daughter. Albus cleared his throat. “The school has owls that are free for students to use and there is a bank of telephones. The telephones are a little finicky but they are there.”

Carol crossed her arms. “No owl.”

Daisy sighed. “Yes, Mummy.”

Carol grabbed Dudley by his sleeve and hissed to him, “And if you get her a ruddy bird for Christmas you'll be sleeping in the garden.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good.” She let go of him.

Hermione, doing her best not to laugh, mentioned, “For Christmas maybe you could get her a pygmy puff. They're little more than puffballs that trill. Very hard to kill.”

Carol raised an eyebrow. “Do they shed?”

“Very little.”

“I'll think about it.”

 

 


	3. Off to School

The Potter-Weasley-Dursley clan was quite the sight to behold making their way through King's Cross Station: twenty three people, the majority of them with flaming red or jet black hair, with eight large trunks, three odd oblong cases, assorted bags and boxes, and two owls in cages among them. They got flashed many strange looks and at least one teenaged girl whispered, “See, what they're saying on the tellie must be true, that lot's got owls,” to her friend as the passed.

Dudley looked dubiously at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. “You just _walk through it_?”

“Right,” Harry confirmed.

“It can be a little unsettling,” Molly Weasley admitted in a comforting tone, “but it's perfectly safe. Arthur, come come, lets go on through wait for everyone on the other side.” She and her very grey husband looped their arms together and strolled casually through the solid wall.

Seated atop her trunk on the trolly her father was pushing for her, Daisy asked, “How do you know you won't smack right into it?”

“That is a very good question.” Dudley glared at his cousin. “How _do_ you know you won't smack into it?”

“Faith, trust, and pixie dust,” Hermione deadpanned. She—being the most well read and reassuringly articulate—had been on the receiving end of every question and doubt Dudley and Carol had had over the past three days and was starting to lose her patience.

“You're not helping, Hermione,” Harry said as Bill, Fleur and their children passed through.

“Admittedly,” Ron put his hands in his pockets, “me and Harry did crash into it one time.”

“Only because a house elf was bent on keeping me from school and closed the barrier. James, Albus, Lily, go on through.”

“I'm going to want to hear that story,” Carol said. “Not right now, but I'm going to.” She gently shouldered Dudley out of her way and took control of the trolly. “Just walk, right?”

“Best to go at a bit of a run if you're nervous,” Ginny said.

Carol nodded. “Hold on, Daisy,” she said, then strode purposefully at and then through the barrier.

Dudley looked like he was going to be sick. Rose rolled her eyes, elbowed her brother, and the two of them went through. Ron and Hermione went after their children. Angelina and George—there to see off their nieces and nephews—followed, George with one son on each hip, Angelina waddling behind them.

“Come on.” Harry very nearly had to drag Dudley through the barrier. Stifling a laugh, Ginny went with them.

The platform was busy, crowded with families seeing their children off. Molly was handing out sack lunches to all her grandchildren plus Daisy with admonitions to not just fill up on sweets. George surreptitiously handed each child a small, orange velvet sack bearing a tag, “ _For Mister Filch_.”

Daisy and Carol looked around in delighted wonder, taking in the colorful people, the gleaming scarlet train, the hundreds of cats and owls of every color and pattern mewing or hooting from their respective baskets and cages. Dudley seemed a little overwhelmed, but at least not actively disgusted.

“Albus!” a slim, blond boy called from halfway down the platform with a wave.

“Cirio!” Albus called in return. The two boys ran to embrace each other and shared a sweet, shy kiss.

Dudley cleared his throat pointedly.

“If you utter a single disapproving word,” Harry said frighteningly coolly, “I will hex you into oblivion.”

Dudley blanched.

Daisy—no longer seated on her trunk—tugged Lily's sleeve and quietly said, “Your brother just kissed a boy.”

Lily shrugged. “Yeah, Cirio's his boyfriend.”

“They're a pair of mushy dorks.” James snorted.

The whistle sounded and there was a sudden flurry as all the students on the platform made their way aboard. Daisy gave both of her parents big hugs and kisses on the cheek before embarking. Dudley was reluctant to let her go and was clearly refusing to let himself cry as she and Lily leaned out a window together to wave and he waved back. “Be good!” He called.

“I will, Daddy!”

“And don't get blown up!”

“I'll do my best!”

As the train started the move, George's twins ran along the platform. “Hey! Hey, Daisy!” they shouted. “Can you send us a Hogwarts toilet seat?”

“Uh,” she shrugged, “maybe!” Then someone pulled her into the car, out of sight.

Dudley snuffled. Hermione pulled a box of tissues out of her purse and handed it to him.

 

* * *

 

Daisy was one of the first on the train to change into her uniform. She carefully straightened her plain black tie for the dozenth time. She was sharing a compartment with Lily, Hugo, Louis, Rose, and a Gryffindor girl in Rose's year.

“So,” Daisy began, “we get to the school and they sort us?”

“That's right,” Hugo said. “Some of our cousins have a betting pool going on what house Lily's going to end up in.”

Lily blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Rose said.

“I've got a galleon on you for Gryffindor,” Rose's classmate said in a slight Scottish accent.

Lily shrugged. “I really shouldn't be surprised by these sorts of things.”

“How does the sorting work, though?” Daisy asked. “I know about the talking hat, but it's got to have criteria.”

“Gryffindor are the brave ones,” Rose explained, “which pretty much means the loud rash ones. Not always, but often. Ravenclaw, we're the smart ones. Slytherin is the sneaky ambitious ones. Hufflepuff 'values hard work.' It's harder to sum up Hufflepuff.”

Louis grinned. “We're the quiet ones no one expects trouble from but are secretly plotting world domination.

The rest of the compartment laughed.

Daisy pulled out the Nutella and banana sandwich Molly had given her and took a bite. She picked up the orange velvet bag. “Who's Mr. Filch?”

Everyone around her groaned. The Scottish girl leaned her elbows on her knees. “He's the caretaker. He's ancient, more than a little sadistic, obsessed with rules, completely adverse to fun, and weirdly into his cat.”

“Oh, joy….” Daisy took another bite of her sandwich, opened the bag, and pulled out a purple glass grenade. “What's this?”

“Glitter bomb,” Hugo laughed. He dug through his own bag and pulled out two such grenades, one red one gold. “We've probably all got them. Be sure to hide that bag in your trunk before we get there or else it'll be confiscated.”

“I'll be sure to put it away.”

 

* * *

 

Daisy stared up at the castle from the boat she was sharing with Lily as they crossed the lake. “It's so big.”

“Yeah.” Lily agreed breathlessly.

They didn't say a word as their little boats came ashore and were led upstairs to stand in front of the doors to the great hall. “Thank you, Luna,” the man waiting for them said to the blond witch who had escorted them so far. He was a tall, dark haired man who Daisy thought would have looked very much like one of her father's business partners were he wearing a suit. He smiled at the assembled clump of new students. “Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But first you must be sorted into your houses so you know at which table to take your seats. There are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While you're at school here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, so do your best this year. Don't be nervous.”

Lily took Daisy's hand and squeezed it. Daisy squeezed her cousin's hand back.

The couple minutes they waited felt like an eternity. Then the dark haired professor led them into the great hall and herded them to stand in front of him and the ancient, ratty hat that sat atop a stool next to him. Daisy jumped when a rip along the brim opened and the hat began to sing. Lily leaned to her and whispered. “It's okay, this is normal.”

“If you say so….”

When the hat finished its song, everyone in the hall applauded, the dark haired professor opened a roll of parchment, and began reading off names. “Eric Adams.”

Eric, an extremely pale boy with hundreds of freckles, stepped forward, sat on the stool, and had the hat placed on his head. It deliberated a moment then announced, “Ravenclaw!”

The Ravenclaw table exploded into cheers as Eric hurried to disappear among its ranks.

Shelly Carver and Anthony Crow were both sorted into Slytherin, then the professor called, “Daisy Dursley.”

Daisy took a deep breath and walked to take her seat on the stool. She shut her eyes tight as the hat settled over her hair. It hummed contemplatively, quiet so only she could hear. “You're a clever one, I can see—you'd do well in Ravenclaw—but you can be conniving too, can't you? Perhaps Slytherin would be a better fit. Hmm, no, no. I know just where to put you—” Daisy braced herself before the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

The moment the hat was off her head, Daisy ran to the Hufflepuff table where Louis had shoved one of his friends over to make a seat for her. She slid onto the bench next to him and he gave her a congratulatory clap on the back. “Welcome to the family!” he said over the cheers.

She grinned. “Thanks.”

When most of the rest of the way down the list Lily was called up and sorted into Gryffindor where her brothers were, Daisy applauded along with the Gryffindor table. The sorting finished, Headmistress Vanity gave a short speech, and the plates on the tables filled with food. Daisy happily dug in.

After dinner, in her basement dormitory with the other new Hufflepuff girls, Daisy sat and penned a letter home.

 

_Dear Mummy and Daddy,_

_I'm writing this the night before classes start. I've been sorted into Hufflepuff house with Louis. Our colors are yellow and black and I've a new scarf and tie and patch for my robes. Lily is in Gryffindor, so we're not roommates but we'll still have classes together. Tomorrow I have transfiguration, herbology, and charms. I think Lily's got herbology too._

_One of my roommates has one of those weird hairless cats_ _you hate, Daddy. It's actually quite sweet but it does look rather like an alien. Thought you'd like to know._

_I think this will be a good year, at least I hope so._

_Love you_ _**so** _ _much,_

_Daisy_

 

 


End file.
